Cryophobia
by Bookworm Gal
Summary: An irrational fear of extreme cold, ice, and snow. But is it really "irrational" when those things can kill you and nearly have in the past? But he's not going to admit it. He's not going to let anyone see how badly it is affecting him. He can't let them know. He's just going to push down his fear and ignore it. (Sequel to "It's Never Too Late")
1. Freaking Out

**I didn't really intend to have a sequel to "It's Never Too Late," but here we are. It isn't the longest thing I've ever written, but the idea hit me in the side of the head one day and my brain wouldn't let it go. I do recommend reading the prequel to this before moving forward, though. Too many spoilers otherwise.**

 **In the comics, Mick Rory ended up with cryophobia (a fear of extreme cold, snow, ice, and so on) after an incident as a child where a bunch of kids locked him in a meat locker. But on the show, there really hasn't been any indication that he has this phobia or that anything resembling this event ever happened to him. As far as I can tell, he might prefer a warm and sunny beach to the snow, but he doesn't have any real issues with it.**

 **But then my brain decided to point out that after what happened in my previous story, where he nearly died after exposing himself to absolute zero temperatures, it wouldn't be inconceivable for him to develop the comic-canon fear of the extreme cold. I certainly didn't write "It's Never Too Late" with that in mind, but it works too well to ignore. And thus this particular idea buried itself into my head and I was forced to write it down.**

 **I do not own DC comics, the CW, "Legends of Tomorrow," any of the characters, the concept of time travel, or a bunch of historical events that happened way before I was born like the Great Frost of 1709 or the Great Northern War. By this point, you've probably guessed that much.**

Cryophobia

 _Russian wilderness: December 20, 1708_

It shouldn't be _this_ hard to shove down the unpleasant sensations of a pounding heartbeat, a tightness in his chest, and the way his body kept trembling. It was _stupid_.

Mick had plenty of experience shoving down and ignoring things. Like when his actions burned his family to death. Or the entire Chronos time frame. Or when Leonard was gone, sacrificing himself for Mick. Ignoring and shoving those thoughts down had served him well over the years.

Granted, the fact he hallucinated his absent partner for a while probably meant that it wasn't the _healthiest_ coping method. But he didn't listen to his therapist when he was _forced_ to visit one during prison. He certainly hadn't visited one since Rip dragged him onto the Waverider.

Anything emotional and unpleasant was pushed to the back of his mind, letting Mick get on with his life. It worked. Most of the time. But for whatever _this_ was…

It started after they broke time. After they got Leonard back. After Mick pulled his partner from that timeless, silent… dark… _cold_ place…

He didn't even know what was happening the first time, almost a month and a few missions after Leonard's return to the team. It was a simple mission, one that actually went as smooth as the plan. Only the smallest bit of chaos and destruction, but they actually planned for it. The only noteworthy moment was when the Flash borrowed Leonard from Siberia for a heist. It should have been fine.

But it was _Siberia_. And it turned out that most of the year, Siberia was _cold_.

Mick managed to get through the mission, but the sharp chill sank through his coat and left him shaking by the time he returned to the timeship. Actually, it was more than shaking. He barely managed to hide his reactions from his distracted teammates, but Mick stumbled up the ramp while dealing with a racing heartbeat, light-headedness, a painful tightness in his chest, and a feeling of dread that left him struggling to breathe. Everything in him kept screaming _it's too cold, it's too cold, it's too cold_ and even focusing on the simple act of staying upright and walking back to the warmth of the Waverider was a struggle. He only realized what it was when Gideon identified it as a panic attack.

He clenched his eyes closed, hissing between his teeth as he fought against his body's rebellion. The sharp stinging of punching the wall might give him something different to focus on, but past attempts had shown that it didn't actually help for more than a couple of seconds. This wasn't something that he could physically fight, no matter how much easier that would be.

It was stupid. Mick knew it was stupid. He always disliked the cold and it tended to make his burn scars ache, but this was different. It was completely stupid and he hated it, but ever since he set foot through the portal… Mick found himself afraid when he was cold.

And no matter how dumb it might be and no matter how he tried to push it down like anything else that bothered him, Mick couldn't bury the fear that tried to swallow him.

How could a little thing like hypothermia, frostbite, and nearly dying affect him so strongly? They'd faced worse than that. He'd been nearly killed dozens of times. He'd been the Time Master's brainwashed lackey. He'd been turned into some kind of future-virus _zombie_. He'd seen Lisa go through her teenage years. He should have been _fine_.

Most of the time, it wasn't an issue. With how much they traveled, they ended up in a variety of climates. Warmer weather was fine and even cooler weather wasn't too bad. Only when they landed in a time and place that was truly _cold_ did he have problems.

And so far, he'd been able to hide his stupid problem. Leonard kept a close eye on him for the first few missions after returning, but he was also watching the rest of the team. Trying to size up the new dynamics and figure out how they'd changed. And Sara certainly distracted him. And since Barry borrowed Leonard during Mick's first unexpected reaction, he missed Mick's discovery of his new fear. Everyone else missed the signs through pure luck.

The first time was the worst one because he didn't expect it. Later trips to colder climates went more smoothly. On the missions that he could manage it, Mick would claim laziness to stay behind. The reputation of a dumb brute had its advantages. But he couldn't do it if a mission was dangerous or if it was too interesting for everyone to believe he'd miss out. In those cases, Mick was stuck with no other options than to grit his teeth and try to push his stupid fear down enough to deal with the situation.

Because he _had_ to deal with the problem. He'd gone to his room after the mission briefing to buy himself a few minutes to pull himself together. He couldn't let the team know that the cold was making him unravel.

Mick wasn't even supposed to be on the team in the first place. And honestly, he didn't contribute anything that the others couldn't do.

He tried to do better. Mick couldn't be "good" like them, but he tried to be better than the traitor who turned against them or the unstable arsonist who nearly burned himself alive. Where once he proudly displayed his scars proudly, embracing the out-of-control person that the fire revealed him to be, Mick now hid them beneath long sleeves. He needed to be at least decent enough to be part of the team and he couldn't be a hinderance.

If he ruined things again… If he ended up as a load because of some stupid fear… Then there would be no purpose for him on the team. They barely needed him now and if he became an actual hinderance, then he could easily lose his place on the team.

Maybe he could go back to his old lifestyle. _Maybe_. But he didn't want to lose these people. He didn't want to be alone.

And he would be alone. Leonard already chose the team over Mick once and that was _before_ he and Sara ended up together. If this stupid, pointless, and overwhelming fear took him from the team, Mick would be left alone.

But he wouldn't let that happen. His hands at his sides squeezing into fists tight enough to leave his knuckles white, Mick forced down as much of the choking fear as possible. He would be fine. He could handle it. He'd faced far worse than a little chilly weather. If he could shove down the guilt of his parents' deaths, the horror and memories of being Chronos, the pain of losing his partner, and everything else, then he would shove this down too.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to settle down the anxiety clawing at him. He could do this. Mick forced himself to believe it. He would grab his Heat Gun like he told the team, he would head to the Fabrication Room and pull on as many layers as possible, and he would march out into the cold to deal with the latest time mess. And he would keep it together.

If he couldn't completely keep the stupid fear at bay, then he would at least hide it enough to get through the mission.

* * *

An ongoing issue since Leonard's return was learning the changed group dynamics.

A lot of things could change when he vanished for almost a year. Mick had grown closer to the others in his absence. Especially Raymond. The reincarnation couple were gone. And while Rip stayed briefly, he eventually left to found a new organization to help guard time since a single timeship could only do so much. They warned Rip to keep an eye on his new people and that they would do the same, acting as a safety measure to prevent them from becoming the new Time Masters. And then there was Leonard and Sara…

As much as he might prefer to control his emotions, or at least his reactions, Leonard kept finding a small and soft smile tugging at his mouth.

But not only did he need to adapt to the changes with the people that he knew, Leonard also had to adapt to the new people.

Amaya was another strong and fierce woman, someone who didn't give up or give in easily. She had a preference for more professional and moral plans, but she apparently had adapted nicely to the Legends and their more flexible methods. She seemed close to Mick and that might have helped Leonard warm up to her more quickly. And while initially she and Nathaniel had a bit of a romantic relationship developing, it cooled over the course of a couple months to something more casual and friendly. An actual and mutual case of being better off as friends.

Dr. Nathaniel Heywood, in many ways, reminded Leonard of Raymond. One more focused on history and language than on technology and weird science quirks, but the similarity was there. He shared the same eager and hyper excitement when he started talking about famous people and events from the past. When given the chance, he would happily show off his nerd knowledge to anyone in range.

Though the fact that he'd spent the first hour and a half of their march through the snow describing in detail how the Great Frost of 1709 was among the coldest winter in Europe within the last 500 years, how the frigid temperatures of the late part of 1708 and early 1709 played a key role in the Great Northern War, and both the weather and Peter the Great's scorched earth policies ensured that Charles XII of Sweden's invasion of Russia didn't succeed was _really_ trying Leonard's patience. Even if it connected to their mission, he didn't need to hear everything about it.

For the moment, Leonard only needed to know the basics until they got the closer. The mission was relatively simple. Apparently history had altered, something causing the Swedish forces to continue their invasion rather than eventually retreating.

Specifically, they were dealing with the winter conditions better than they should have. According to Nathaniel, with the Swedish forces _not_ freezing and starving during a land war against Russia in winter, the entire outcome of the war would change. Because the Russian troops were more prepared for the harmful weather and cautiously stayed within their camps in the original timeline, their losses were substantially lower, contributing heavily to their eventual victory at Poltava the following summer.

Somehow, the Swedish forces had gained access to a new food source and better winter uniforms. That kept them in better condition overall, which meant they made it to summer with fewer losses. And that completely altered the outcome of the entire war. The best guess was that another time traveler or group of time travelers ended up stranded due to time breaking and were bargaining with the locals using a ship's food replicator and the fabrication room.

None of the more moral members of the group were completely comfortable with the idea that removing the stranded time traveler or time travelers would mean condemning those soldiers back to freezing or starving again. But based on Nathaniel's rant about how there would be no St. Petersburg, it was something they needed to fix.

Unfortunately, there were a few deeply annoying limitations. The damaged timeline limited when and where they could travel to through time. The Waverider landed as close as possible, but they couldn't risk being detected by the people they were after in case they didn't want to be rescued. Hence why the team was wearing era-appropriate clothing, marching through the snow and cold for miles, rather than flying closer in the timeship. They were trying to keep a low profile for once.

Though if they ever managed to complete a mission without it ending in at least a little chaos, Rip would probably have a heart attack out of shock.

But as much as Leonard might prefer the cold to the heat, there were limits. And wandering around Russia during the winter, when the sun set extremely early and the temperatures plunged in the darkness, apparently crossed the threshold. The wind cut right through the thick material of their clothes at times. The cold left lips cracked and toes numb. They'd probably have to have Gideon treat some minor frostbite on at least someone before this mission was over, but at least the dropping temperatures eventually quieted Nathaniel down. He was too busy trying to keep warm to continue the history lesson after a certain point.

Sara walked beside him through the dark, her footsteps nearly silent compared to his crunching through the snow. Occasionally her arm would brush against his as they walked. He could feel it even through the thick clothes and the numbing chill. And while faint and restrained, Leonard allowed a smile to cross his face when he glanced towards her. Her presence warmed him far more than the era-appropriate clothes ever could.

He still couldn't quite believe that Sara chose him. He could accept metas, time traveling, and nearly every other part of his current life, but not her presence by his side. But she had. And he wouldn't let anything steal her away. He was a good enough thief to prevent that much.

Once again, Leonard took a moment to glance around and make certain where everyone was. He couldn't resist the urge to keep track of everyone. He knew that no one would wander off. And he knew that Sara was in charge instead of him. But he preferred keeping track of all the variables. And that meant keeping an eye on the rest of the team.

Amaya was at the front, barely visible through the shadows as she moved ahead of them. With her amulet providing her with the traits of a wolf, she was using her heightened senses to guide them forward. The fact it made her more resistant to the temperature was a pleasant bonus for her.

Following a short distance behind her was a clump of nerds. Raymond, Nathaniel, and Stein were all huddled together as they shuffled through the snow. They weren't moving the fastest, but they made constant progress. Right behind them was Jax, the young man keeping close watch on his partner. Raymond and Nathaniel were already keeping an eye on the old man's endurance, making certain the frigid temperature and distance didn't push him beyond Stein's limits, but Jax would be the first to know and would speak up if necessary. And while Leonard could tell that Stein was breathing harder and working harder than the younger men around him, Stein wasn't giving up.

The old man was a stubborn one. Leonard had to respect that.

Other than making a mental note to suggest to Sara that they should give the professor and everyone a break the next time they passed a semi-sheltered spot, Leonard decided that everyone ahead of them seemed fine. And with Mick guarding the rear, none of the locals or rogue time travelers would get the drop on them. With the limited light from the quarter moon and enough watchful eyes, they should be able to avoid anyone wandering the forest. For once, they might be able to manage a simple in-and-out mission. Or at least, they might be able to locate their target or targets before the chaos erupted.

Wait…

As Leonard glanced over his shoulder, he only saw moonlight reflecting off the snow. He stopped, twisting around and looking back the way that they came. The shadows and trees made it harder to see, but he could make out enough.

"Mick?" he called, raising his voice slightly. "You dragging your feet?"

He didn't hear a grumbled complaint. And he didn't see a tall figure stomping his way through the snow. And that sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Mick?"

Now Sara was turning around, a look of concern on her face. And the others were stopping. Amaya even ran back to join the rest of the team. An atmosphere of confusion and unease was forming around the group.

"What's going on?" asked Raymond, craning his neck.

Taking a few steps closer, Jax said, "Rory is gone."

Amaya turned her face upwards and took a deep breath. And then she snapped her head around, clearly picking up a scent. Even her body language matched the wolf that she was channeling.

"I've got him," she said. "I don't know what he's doing though. There's no one else in the area and no blood, so he hasn't been attacked by someone. He's… just back the way we came."

"Then we better find out what the hold up is," said Leonard, keeping his voice even.

He tried to remain calm as they slogged their way back through the snow. The most that he allowed his face to show was frustration. But as much as Leonard tried to ignore the feeling, unease crept up his spine. There was no reason for Mick to fall behind this much. His partner was supposed to be guarding their rear and he _wouldn't_ just get distracted or something. Nothing short of a bonfire would have kept him from paying attention.

And the farther back they needed to retrace their steps, the harder it was to ignore his growing unease. How could he have missed Mick's absence for so long? Leonard was normally more observant than that.

Sara gave him a brief reassuring look, clearly guessing his thoughts. But it didn't completely erase the unease twisting in the pit of his stomach.

He didn't call it worry.

Not yet.

Finally Leonard spotted a tall and broad shape, one particular shadow among the rest. Somehow managing to grit his teeth and breathing a sigh of relief in the same instant, Leonard picked up the pace. Part of him was ready to punch Mick over the trouble that he caused, but his instincts kept whispering _this is wrong_.

"As much 'fun' as it is to wander around in the dark during the _coldest_ winter in the last five hundred years of recorded European history, do you think now is the best time to play hide-and-seek, Mr. Rory?" called Stein, a mixture of frustration and relief in his voice as he staggered after the group.

The lack of response or any form of reaction did nothing to reassure them. And then Raymond pulled out a flashlight from his pocket, living up to his boy scout image by being prepared even when they weren't supposed to bring a lot of modern objects out into the field with them. But no one scolded him. The flashlight gave Leonard enough light to actually see his partner properly now.

Everything that Leonard saw was wrong. Mick's eyes were pressed closed, his jaw clenched tight, and every muscle in his tense and hunched body looked stiff. He barely seemed to be breathing, only managing tiny strained gasps between gritted teeth. He was too pale, as if all the blood had drained from his face.

But what truly held everyone's attention was his Heat Gun.

Finger on the trigger, going against every form of gun safety and common sense, Mick clutched the weapon close while aiming towards himself. The smallest twitch would engulf his face and chest in flames.

"Mick." Keeping his voice steady and even despite the difficulties at the moment, Leonard took a slow step towards him. "Look at me, Mick. Put down the Heat Gun."

Leonard had known Mick for the majority of his life. He'd seen his partner trapped in almost trance-like states due to his fascination with fire repeatedly over the years. And he'd seen the times where Mick's mind went into dark directions and his connection with fire turned harmful towards himself. Leonard had pulled him out of those disconnected and distant states more times than he could count.

But Mick wasn't reacting to his words and trying to physically shake him out, a dangerous act in normal times since it risked the man lashing out in surprise, now ran the risk of his partner inadvertently burning himself alive. And this seemed different than those past occasions. He wasn't relaxed or calm. This was something that Leonard couldn't name.

Moving slowly towards him, her eyes locked on the finger curled around the trigger, Sara said, "Rory, we need you to put that down." She gestured towards the others to move to the side and out of range. "I don't know what's going on or what's wrong, but—"

Sara _moved_.

First twisting the muzzle of the Heat Gun away from Mick and anyone else in case of misfire, Sara then managed to tear the weapon from him completely. It only took a couple seconds.

Sara's assassin training… Saving lives instead of taking them.

But disarming Mick wasn't enough to snap him back to reality. He didn't even seem to notice the loss of his weapon. His arms remained close to his body, as if frozen in position. His eyes remained closed and his breathing remained shallow and strained. It wasn't right. He was barely breathing. Leonard could see the tensed muscles in his neck and jaw.

"Mick," called Leonard, his tone firm as he reached for his shoulders cautiously. When his partner didn't try to knock his hands away, Leonard gripped his shoulders tightly enough that his knuckles ached through the gloves and the numbing cold. Shaking his partner slightly, he called, " _Mick_."

A sharper shake finally managed to produce the smallest reaction from him. Mick's eyes opened briefly with a choked gasp before he squeezed them shut again. But even that short glimpse was enough for a man who'd known Mick his entire life.

His eyes were completely unfocused in that brief glimpse. Mick clearly didn't see any of his team crowded around him. His gaze went through them, unseeing and uncomprehending. His eyes were too distant, too empty, and too…

…scared. Leonard abruptly recognized the expression. Mick looked scared to death. No, that wasn't quite right either. This was stronger. This was beyond simple fear. Mick was absolutely and completely terrified out of his mind, left in a paralyzed and senseless state.

And that realization scared Leonard in return.

Mick didn't _get_ scared. Not like this. Not to this extent. Not to this state. The man nearly got himself killed from one of his fires, was brainwashed by the Time Masters, and was nearly killed numerous times over the years _before_ metas and time travel got involved in their lives. None of them ever reduced him to this state. Leonard didn't know that his partner could be frightened this strongly.

What could have possibly happened? What happened in the middle of the dark, cold, winter forest that could have scared Mick this much? Scaring him to the point that he was oblivious to his surroundings, barely breathing, unmoving, and trying to aim his Heat Gun at himself?

"Look at me, Mick. What's wrong?" asked Leonard. His voice fought his efforts to keep it steady and even. "What happened? Come on, Mick."

He didn't respond to Leonard's words. Whatever Mick was seeing or hearing, it wasn't Leonard and it wasn't the concerned looks being exchanged by his teammates. Mick was physically present, but not mentally. Wherever his terrified mind had dragged him, it was far away from the frozen landscape around them.

"I think he's experiencing some form of a panic attack." Nathaniel's voice came out quiet and tense. "What could have caused it?"

"How do we snap him out of it?" asked Amaya. "Mick?" She reached out cautiously and touched the side of his face with a gloved hand. "Can you hear us, Mick?"

As Leonard started trying to devise a way to get Mick back to the Waverider so Gideon could take a look at him, he couldn't block out the persistent thought that he should have seen this coming. He was supposed to keep track of all the variables. He should have noticed Mick falling behind. He should have spotted whatever hit Mick with this much absolute terror and prevented it.

Mick was his _partner_. Seeing him in this state, curled in on himself in a paralyzed and uncomprehending silence, left Leonard struggling with turbulent and discomforting emotions that threatened to escape his control.

* * *

Jax hated feeling helpless. He always had. He couldn't stand the idea of doing nothing when someone was in trouble. It was part of the reason that he came around to the idea of merging with Stein in the first place; he couldn't turn his back on someone whose life was depending on Jax for help. And once he gained powers, he rarely felt helpless.

But at the moment, all of them were helpless. Mick might as well be a statue. Eyes pressed closed, jaw clenched, and muscles locked, the man wasn't reacting to anything that they tried. Neither their voices nor any cautious shaking caused any response. He just stood in the snow, absolutely terrified beyond all rational thought. Jax never imagined their resident arsonist being afraid and yet that's exactly what he was seeing.

Nate's description of it as a panic attack, a paralyzing one rather than one that triggered the fight-or-flight instinct, didn't seem to truly convey Mick's current state. It didn't really describe how utterly unnerving it was to see the man like this. And one question hung over them, silent and waiting. What could have sparked this reaction?

Jax shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his coat tighter. Then he stopped.

"It's cold," he muttered.

Glancing at his partner distractedly, Stein said, "It _is_ winter in Russia."

But Jax was barely paying attention to the words or the worry and concern prickling over their shared bond. He was too busy remembering. Little details that he'd barely noticed before. Like how reluctant Mick was to leave the Fabrication Room when it was time for the mission. Like how he picked out the thickest clothes available for the era. Like how the last few missions that Mick chose to laze around the Waverider instead of joining in were either set in winter months or were in more northern countries.

Like how the man who nearly died from hypothermia and the resulting complications was now in the middle of freezing cold temperatures and was absolutely terrified.

Time to toss subtlety and stealth out the window. Jax reached out in a familiar gesture. While he gave his partner a questioning look, Stein took the offered hand and the two merged together into a single body. Their thoughts and emotions nearly melted together, making it harder to distinguish where one half ended and the other began. But they had plenty of practice at it.

And at least as Firestorm, the cold and dark didn't affect them as greatly.

Picking up at least a few threads of Jax's thoughts, Stein said, " _You might be onto something, Jefferson._ "

"Let me give it a try," said Jax, answering the unspoken questions from their friends that the transformation sparked.

Moving past most their teammates, though Snart was reluctant to step back, Firestorm took up a position directly in front of Mick. He positioned his hands on either side of the man, just about an inch from touching him. Then, brow furrowing with concentration, Firestorm's hands began to heat up.

It took a lot of focus to maintain the right temperature. Creating fire, heat, and light with their combined power came naturally to them, but they didn't need to burn their teammate to a crisp. They didn't need to reach those extremes. Jax and Stein concentrated together to maintain the heat at a safe level.

Well, safe as long as no one touched their hands with bare skin.

The air around them grew warm. Uncomfortably warm. Warm enough that the melting snow at their feet was steaming slightly. And warm enough that Mick started stirring, the shift in temperature breaking through his paralyzing fear.

* * *

For a moment, Leonard felt a sudden urge, an alien impulse that he barely recognized. If he was a different man, he might have hugged the young man. He could feel the uncomfortable heat rolling away from the concentrating Firestorm. But more importantly, he could see Mick visibly responding to the change.

His tensed muscles gradually relaxed. His jaw unclenched. His strained and hissing gasps gave way to desperate gulps of air, like a drowning man. And Mick was shaking. Perhaps partially from the cold, but not completely. But anything was better than the previous unresponsive state that they found him in.

"Mick," said Leonard, trying to reach him again. "Can you hear me? Are you with us now?"

His eyes opened. At first, they weren't completely focused, but they eventually landed on his worried teammates. Leonard moved Firestorm slightly to the side and placed a hand on Mick's shoulder, trying to ground him further.

Taking a step closer, Sara asked gently, "Are you all right?"

Mick opened his mouth slightly. Then he closed his eyes and mouth, shivering a little. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again.

"I…" His voice rough and choked, Mick stopped. Then, swallowing and taking a shaking breath, Mick gave a small nod and tried again. "I'm good."

Leonard knew that Mick was many things, but "good" wasn't one of them at the moment. He was still too pale, too unsteady, and clearly still scared. But he was trying to act normal and Leonard wasn't going to call him out on it.

Sara met Leonard's gaze and they silently exchanged options. Hanging around in the cold and dark forest much longer wouldn't do Mick any good. But they also needed to finish the mission and until they knew more about what they were walking into, they couldn't risk sending him back. Especially since they would need to send someone with him to make certain that he got back to the Waverider all right and Leonard wasn't certain that he would be able to concentrate on the mission if he couldn't keep an eye on Mick. That would take at least two or three people out of commission.

"Rip is going to freak out," muttered Sara before giving her head a sharp shake. "Fine. New plan. Forget subtlety. We go in, find the time travelers and their timeship, and deal with it as quickly as possible. If the locals end up with a few wild stories, then so be it. In and out, _fast_. Everything else can wait until we're back on the Waverider."

Then she met Firestorm's eyes and gave her head a small jerk towards their shaking teammate. Even without saying a word, her meaning should be relatively clear: stay near Mick and keep an eye on him during the mission. Firestorm gave a short nod.

It wasn't perfect. Leonard would have preferred to get Mick back to the timeship until his head was back on straight and he was certain that his partner wouldn't slip back into a paralyzing panic attack during a fight. But Mick's expression was shifting into something a bit more stubborn and it would take a couple hours to get back. Maybe once they were done, they could contact Gideon and have her pilot the timeship closer. But for now, this was probably their best option.

But they would not be dropping the subject afterwards.

 **I don't expect this story to be very long. Probably only two chapters. But I couldn't let the subject drop, so here we are. The next chapter should probably have a lot of conversation.**


	2. Fallout

**While only a few people left comments on the last chapter, I do appreciate the feedback. I have decided to break this chapter up, so this story will probably end up as three chapters instead. But I don't think you'll mind. Now let's continue forward as everyone deals with the fallout from the last chapter.**

 _Temporal Zone_

"Do I want to ask _why_ your team decided to turn a quiet reconnaissance and retrieval mission into a full-blown assault?" asked Rip, massaging his temple. Sara could practically see his migraine forming through the screen. "I mean, none of you are particularly subtle. But that was excessively loud and flashy, even for the team."

Grimacing at the pins-and-needles sensation of circulation returning to her chilly extremities, Sara flexed her hands and said, "We had to adjust our plans a little. But it worked out. We found the trio of time travelers, we found their timeship, we locked them in their own brig, and sent the timeship back to your headquarters. And since the only people around were the Swedish forces, everyone who hears about this will think it was hallucinations caused by hunger and hypothermia. The timeline is preserved. You should be happy."

"Technically, the mission counts as a success," said Rip, burying his face in his hands briefly before dragging them down his cheeks. "But I swear all of you are trying to give me gray hair. None of my new teams cause me this much stress."

Sara rubbed her arms to combat the goosebumps and said, "Your new teams are made up of the more rational remaining members of the Time Masters that you tracked down and new people that you carefully chose to be humble and moral enough _not_ to repeat the Time Masters' past mistakes. You picked us to be disruptive and difficult to stop. For both Savage _and_ your old bosses. You _really_ can't be that surprised that we ended up more difficult."

His shoulders shook slightly as Rip tried to resist laughing. He slowly nodded as he leaned back in his chair.

"No, I suppose that I shouldn't have expected anything different. Regardless, even if your methods remain unorthodox, I've never doubted your abilities. Nice work, Captain Lance."

"Thank you, Captain Hunter," she said. "And while I'm sure that we should talk more, could we wait until a later time? We need to take care of a few things after that last mission."

"Is someone on the team injured?"

Hesitating only briefly, Sara answered, "No one was seriously injured, no. But we do have a situation that needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later."

"I understand. A captain's work is never done. I suppose I can go and oversee proceedings with the trio that you sent us. Just be certain to contact me when things calm down."

The screen went blank and Sara pushed herself out of the chair. With that particular task out of the way, she left the library and started heading towards the galley. Everyone else should already be waiting there.

Well, not quite _everyone_. One member of the team had stormed down the hall of the Waverider as soon as the timeship landed, vanishing into this room without a word. Rory barely spoke during entire mission. He avoided meeting their eyes that evening since The Incident. Honestly, she was surprised that he didn't try to keep his distance from the team with how he'd been acting. But Rory stayed close to Firestorm and then later the fires started during the fight, staying close to the sources of heat. No one could miss the unease, even if he didn't completely lock up like before.

Leonard said to leave him in his room for now. He warned everyone from trying anything. People had questions and Ray and Amaya definitely wanted to check on him. But Leonard seemed to think that it was smarter to give him a moment or two alone before making him deal with people.

But while Sara knew that Leonard generally knew the best way to handle his partner, the man possessing decades of experience on his side, she could also tell that he was calmly and quietly freaking out. It was subtle, but she was getting better at spotting things beneath Leonard's mask of control and he didn't hide quite as much anymore. So she could tell that he was almost as shocked by Rory's reaction as everyone else. He'd clearly never seen the man act like that before and thus couldn't completely predict what would happen or how to handle it.

Sara entered the galley to find everyone nursing steaming mugs containing tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. The decision to gather there instead of the library worked in their favor. Not only did it have access to hot drinks to help warm everyone up, but the casual atmosphere made it seem less like a formal meeting. It was just a group of people trying to combat the chill with tea and hot chocolate rather than an attempt to talk about their teammate behind his back.

Speaking of which…

"Gideon, if Rory leaves his room, could you give us a heads up?" she asked. "I don't think he needs to walk in on this conversation without warning. With our luck, he'll only overhear the worst parts possible and misunderstand what's happening."

"Of course, Captain Lance."

Sara claimed a chair next to Leonard, prompting him to slide a mug over to her. She smiled at the simple white design and the hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows. She could tell from the smell that he didn't use the food replicator. This was the stuff from his personal stash, the "welcome back from being presumed dead" gift from Barry. He was even holding his light blue mug with a snowflake pattern filled with the same beverage. Sara took a sip, thankful for the flavor and the warmth.

Then, taking a deep breath, she decided to stop procrastinating. They needed to address the issue.

"Let's start with the obvious question," she said slowly. "What exactly is going on with our resident arsonist?"

Shifting awkwardly and exchanging looks with Stein, Jax said, "I wasn't completely sure, man. Not until we tried something. But…"

"Jefferson theorized that Mr. Rory's adverse reaction might have been caused by the extreme temperatures," continued Stein.

"It wasn't much of a stretch, all things considered." Jax shrugged slightly. "So we tried warming him up and… Well, you saw. He snapped out of it a little."

"Enough to talk to us again, at least," said Nate quietly.

"Mick's never liked the cold." Leonard stared at the marshmallows floating in the hot chocolate. "He would grumble about the winter weather at different points over the years. But he was never like this."

Rubbing her arms briefly, Amaya said, "I've seen similar reactions before in men during war. When they see too much. This wasn't quite the same, but similar."

Shell shock. PTSD. They had called it different things over the decades, but that's what she was talking about. Sara knew exactly what Amaya was describing. A few of the assassins suffered the same condition after their first targets or after jobs that went particularly badly; those poor souls would then be forced to overcome the issue or to shatter beneath the pressure. The League of Assassins wasn't exactly big on maintaining or encouraging the mental and emotional health of those involved.

"The guy who nearly froze to death having a bad reaction to the cold? Makes sense to me," said Ray quietly.

Leonard stiffened slightly, but Sara only noticed because she was watching for it. She could already guess what was going through his head at Ray's words.

"If we're assuming that all of this started because of the events that happened a few months ago, they why didn't we notice anything sooner?" asked Nate.

A few suspicious starting to form in her head, Sara glanced up and asked, "Gideon, has Rory had any bad reactions when we visited colder climates? Stuff that he's tried to hide from us?"

The slight hesitation from the A.I. gave her the answer before Gideon said a word.

"Upon returning from the mission in Siberia, 1892, Mr. Rory was experiencing a panic attack that he managed to conceal from the team," she said evenly. "Other missions produced less extreme reactions due to Mr. Rory's awareness of the issue, but he would display biological symptoms of extreme distress prior to and after exposure to lower temperatures."

Leonard cursed quietly, his grip on his mug tightening. It didn't take a genius to guess what he was thinking. He was feeling guilty about not noticing what was wrong sooner. And about the situation in general. She was going to have to drag him off later and convince him that he wasn't to blame.

For someone with the Cisco-approved name of "Captain Cold," he was not as cold-hearted as he tried to act.

"Cryophobia," said Stein. "Or perhaps frigophobia. The line dividing the two terms is a bit fuzzy and I cannot seem to recall the exact difference at the moment. But it sounds like Mr. Rory has developed an irrational fear of the extreme cold."

Frowning, Ray asked, "Why wouldn't he tell us?"

"Man, are you serious?" Jax shook his head tiredly. "Do you honestly think that someone like Rory would ever admit to something like that?"

Of course not. Neither Rory nor Leonard would be the types to admit weakness or vulnerability. Sara wasn't much better at it sometimes. But at least she had a normal childhood before the League of Assassin. She could actually remember a time when weakness or vulnerability didn't serve as an opening for someone to attack, figuratively or literally.

"The question isn't why we didn't know about this sooner," said Sara. Taking another sip of hot chocolate before looking around the room, she continued, "The important thing is what we're going to do now that we know about the problem. Because ignoring it is definitely not an option."

Because Rory's clear attempt to ignore and deny the issue led to him freezing up in the middle of a Russian forest.

"Therapy from a trained profession would be the preferred treatment," said Stein, "though I highly suspect we would encounter incredible resistance if we suggested it to him. Beyond that, maybe he'll do better after a break, either somewhere warm or at least familiar. A vacation could do him some good. If his reaction this evening was stressful to us, then I can only imagine how stressful it might have been for him. But any more specific suggestions on dealing with the issue would require further discussion with Mr. Rory about what his limits might be. Maybe we can figure out a method of working around them."

"That's not going to be a fun conversation," muttered Ray.

Crossing his arms, Jax said, "At least no one is stupid enough to suggest something like kicking him off the team 'for his own good' or whatever."

"No one throws Mick off this timeship," said Leonard sharply.

"And no one is suggesting it." Sara gave him a reassuring smile. "If he wants to leave, we won't stop him. But he's part of this team as long as he wants. We just need to know what to keep an eye out for. We can work with this."

They could adapt. Leading the team meant finding ways to balance everyone's strengths and weaknesses. Different times and different places required different skillsets. Not everyone could do everything and part of her job was picking the right person for each situation. And if she couldn't find a way to work around his newly-developed fear, then she was a failure as a captain.

Brushing against Leonard's arm subtly, Sara said, "No one could have predicted how it would affect him. Pulling off dangerous stunts is what this team does, especially when it involves saving people. And especially our friends. You would have risked the exactly same thing to get him back, Leonard. Any of us would have done the same thing. And we might have ended up with the same reaction afterwards."

He closed his eyes briefly before slowly standing up. Leonard pushed his mug back slightly, the beverage only half gone.

"I'll be back. Mick should have straightened his head out a little by now," he said.

As Leonard left the galley, Jax muttered, "Guess it's time for that awkward conversation."

* * *

Leonard didn't bother knocking. He wasn't giving Mick the option to keep him out. His partner wouldn't be avoiding this.

Not after the unnerving sight of Mick aiming his Heat Gun at himself.

A wave of warmth washed over him as soon as the door opened. He didn't know if Mick requested it or if Gideon did it on her own, but the temperature of the room was noticeably higher than the rest of the timeship.

Unsurprisingly, the chaotically-messy room was filled with assorted stolen loot from across room. Which honestly was rather normal for the man. Most ended up shoved to against the walls and a few places were semi-organized, but housekeeping was never a big concern for him.

But Leonard barely paid attention to the state of the room beyond making sure that it wasn't trashed worse than normal and nothing looked broken or burnt. Most of his focus fell on the man. Mick sat on the edge of his bed rather than taking up space on the exercise bench. And when Leonard entered, he barely even glanced up from the lighter in his hands.

It wasn't lit. That was probably for the best. While a small fire normally calmed and distracted him, there were times where Mick's obsession could take a darker turn. Especially when his mind was already heading in dangerous directions. Leonard had seen it multiple times over the years. Based on Mick's previous state, Leonard was simply thankful that his partner wasn't burning his hand currently.

Though the torn knuckles suggest that he gave in to his frustrations enough to try punching a hard and unyielding surface. Probably a wall or something similar.

Forcing his current turbulent and wild emotions to remain under control wasn't easy. He'd been struggling to keep them from surfacing, to keep them trapped at the back of his head. He needed to keep calm and logical about this.

Mick was the hot-head of their partnership and Leonard was the rational one. They balanced each other. He'd kept Mick from going out of control and grounded him, reminding him to think before acting and pulling him back when the hypnotic power of fire grew too strong. And he'd kept Leonard from growing too cold, rigid, and cruel, forcing him to be more adaptive and flexible with his plans and letting Leonard relax by giving him someone that he could trust. He'd spent most of his life needing to be the voice of reason in their partnership and that involved a lot of self-control.

But Leonard's emotions had been rebelling since they found his partner in that unnerving state of overwhelming and unresponsive terror. And everything since that moment kept feeding into that feeling of wrongness and unease.

But he was going to fix this. He would regain control of the situation and ensure that there wouldn't be a repeat. And he wouldn't miss problems like this again.

He was good at figuring out all the possible problems and how to avoid them. As long as he had all the information, he could handle things. He could guarantee successful outcomes and keep his small group of important people safe.

Lisa. Mick. And now people like Barry and everyone on board the Waverider.

But it was when people tried to hide things from him, when _he missed things_ , his plans started to unravel and started going wrong.

"Mick, what were you thinking?"

Not looking up, he said, "I messed up. It won't happen again."

"You messed up by not saying anything. You knew that something was wrong and didn't tell us. You didn't tell me. How are we supposed to make any type of plan when we don't have all the facts?" Leonard positioned himself in front of his partner, making it harder for Mick to avoid his gaze. Mick managed anyway. "Why didn't you at least tell _me_ what was going on?"

"It's nothing," said Mick gruffly. "I can handle it."

"We found you standing _in the middle of the forest_ , not moving or talking, aiming your _Heat Gun_ at yourself." Leonard's voice came out as cold and sharp as ice. "That isn't _nothing_."

He couldn't get the image out of his head. As he stared at Mick, Leonard didn't truly see his partner sitting on the edge of his bed. He saw that dark and frozen forest with Mick—

— _Mick paralyzed by fear; blind, deaf, and ignorant to those around him. Helpless and vulnerable to his surroundings—_

— _Lying lifeless in medbay, Mick completely silent and still. Dying. Only the stubbornness of the team refusing to give up holding off death for the moment, performing CPR on him—_

— _His expression hardened by resolve, Mick holding the switch down to ensure the destruction of the Oculus and the entire organization that hurt him so much. Choosing to die for both revenge and to keep Raymond from dying there instead—_

— _Furious and with a Cold Gun aimed at him, Mick threatening to kill everyone unless Leonard killed him first. And after his stunt with the pirates, he clearly meant it. Leonard couldn't send him home alone or Mick would become a wildfire and destroy everything. Maybe even Lisa. Out of control and lashing out, he was dangerous. Perhaps even too dangerous to live—_

— _The stench of burnt flesh and wood smoke filling the air, Leonard dragging the limp figure of his partner away from the flames. He should have kept better control of Mick. He should have been paying closer attention to his fraying mental state, should have seen how his obsession was getting too much control, and should have seen that it had been too long since Mick had a proper outlet. Mick's problems were killing him and Leonard couldn't stop it—_

"It was just too quiet, too dark, and too… too cold," said Mick, forcing Leonard to focus on the present and shove those rebellious emotions back down. "It was too much like… like when I…" He couldn't completely suppress the shudder, though Mick clearly tried even as he refused to meet his eyes. "It just messed with my head. It won't happen again. I'm _fine_."

"No, you're _not_. And pretending you're fine is stupid," said Leonard. "What if we didn't notice that you fell behind as quickly as we did? What if you stayed there for hours? Or what if you froze up like that during a fight? You could have gotten yourself killed along with anyone depending on you."

Mick surged to his feet, his eyes finally meeting Leonard's. The distant, dull, and anxious expression was still there, though fainter than before. But he could at least see some hints of life burning in his partner again. And anger. Where Leonard's worry and frustration turned cold and hard, Mick's emotions always leaned towards something volatile and aggressive.

"I can _handle_ it. And even with this one _stupid_ mistake, I wouldn't let the them down. I can still do my job here," he said, his voice a rough bark. "I'm fine, Leonard. I won't let it happen again. So drop it and _leave me alone_."

"It shouldn't have happened in the _first place_."

Because Mick shouldn't have nearly died from the cold. This entire mess happened because Mick decided to risk everything to drag Leonard back. Which meant that it was Leonard's fault.

But Mick didn't take the words that way. Anger flickered behind his eyes. In a familiar movement from countless arguments between them, Mick yanked the Heat Gun from the holster and pointed it towards Leonard. And just like whenever his partner would point a weapon at him out of anger in the past, Leonard reacted automatically with his own.

It was instinctive. Their arguments often involved aiming weapons at each other. It had been that way since the start of their adult criminal careers.

But when Leonard's Cold Gun swung up, Mick's eyes widened and the blank emptiness returned in full force. The Heat Gun clattered to the floor, slipping from limp fingers. And belatedly Leonard realized that he was pointing a weapon that produced _cold_ at his partner who was now terrified of the _cold_. And maybe he would have been able to hide his reaction normally, but Mick hadn't seemed completely over his earlier reaction before Leonard apparently decided to make things worse.

Leonard cursed quietly as he dropped his arm, putting away the weapon and even taking a step back to give him some space. The blank, unseeing, and terrified look took a while to fade. The unsteady and hitched breathing took even longer to even back out. Both facts seemed to make Leonard's rebellious emotions surge up worse than before.

"You know that I wouldn't fire on you," said Leonard quietly. "I wouldn't do that."

"I know." Mick's voice sounded tight as he spoke, his eyes squeezing closed briefly. "I know you won't. But…" He cursed quietly, his hands opening and closing into fists a few times. "It's stupid. You won't do it. I'm not scared of you. Not _you_. But something in my brain is a mess and won't… It's so stupid. Even thinking about the cold…" He sank back down on the edge of the bed. "This is so stupid. What's wrong with me?"

Leonard stared at him silently. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know.

Mick said that he wasn't scared of him. But he'd all but admitted that he was scared of the cold. Even admitting that much told Leonard that it had to be pretty bad.

Emotions weren't either of their strong suit. Mick tended to turn his into anger while Leonard tended to push his down to control them. Neither of them confronted the more uncomfortable feelings. They denied them, avoided them, and pretended the problems didn't exist until the emotions passed. Fear especially was never acknowledged.

But apparently another unexpected side effect of staying on the team was that they were being at least a little more honest about their feelings. Just not enough for this particular problem.

This wouldn't pass. Denying and avoiding the issue hadn't worked for Mick. In fact, it could have gotten him killed. His partner needed help.

And Leonard didn't know how to help him. After decades of keeping his partner's sanity relatively intact and his obsession with fire from completely consuming him, Leonard couldn't do a thing this time. In fact, he'd managed to make it worse. He couldn't help Mick because this dealt with emotions and Leonard didn't know how to help with those. Not enough for this.

He couldn't fix this. He was useless.

But he knew someone who could handle complex feelings. Someone that Mick trusted and who wouldn't be intimidated into dropping the subject. And someone who wouldn't go for pity or false reassurances that they didn't believe in. Because they were just too honest and almost painfully optimistic.

Basically the man was like Barry without the super speed.

"Give me a minute," said Leonard before matching out of the room.

A few teammates still lingered in the galley, including the member that Leonard was searching for. He grabbed the man's arm and dragged him away from the steaming mug without a word. Leonard pulled him down the hallway, ignoring the confused questions, before returning to Mick's room. He shoved his teammate in, causing the man to stumble in an attempt to avoid falling on his face.

"You're up, Raymond," said Leonard. "You're going to help me knock some sense into Mick's head and sort all this out."

 **Let's see if the most optimistic member of "Legends of Tomorrow" can help this situation out a bit. And remember, writers do appreciate feedback.**


End file.
